


Like Bottling A Concept.

by Falcrow



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Episode: s02e07 The Witchfinder, Gen, God!Merlin, He's way too casual for what's happened but I feel like that's pretty on brand of him, Honestly I tried to make this gen only but my merthur bones are too strong, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Magic Revealed, Merlin is a Little Shit, Mild Blood, Non-Graphic Violence, Temporary Character Death, implied pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:27:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29260449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Falcrow/pseuds/Falcrow
Summary: The Witchfinder accuses Merlin, Uther orders Merlin to be bound. As is the standard for restraining those with magic, they chain him in cold iron cuffs. It backfires spectacularly.
Relationships: Gaius & Merlin (Merlin), Gwen & Merlin (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin & Morgana (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 450





	Like Bottling A Concept.

The Witchfinder accuses Merlin of sorcery, and Uther orders for Merlin to be restrained. The knights bring forward a set of heavy iron shackles. It takes all of Merlin’s willpower to keep up his calm front, and offer his wrists to be chained. As soon as they snap shut, however, a sharp gasp pierces the quiet. Merlin looks up, and meets Gaius’s eye. He’s  _ gaping, _ something Merlin has never seen on his level headed mentor. It’s a more dramatic reaction than even the reveal and explanation of Merlin’s magic.

“What?” he asks.

No explanation comes, Gaius’s mouth opens and closes once, twice, and is it a trick of the light or do Gaius’s eyes seem to shine with despair? Merlin looks over his shoulder, hoping it’s something behind him that’s causing such a reaction, and more noises of shock rise from the crowd. Morgana has a hand over her mouth, eyes shining with tears. He looks to Arthur, hoping  _ he _ might have an explanation. Arthur freezes, then stands, and a look of shock quickly turns to something like betrayal, and Merlin’s  _ really _ starting to panic now.

_ “What? _ What is it?” he asks, desperately.

His magic is buzzing under his skin, looking for danger, but wherever Merlin’s eyes land, people flinch away, shudder, cry out in alarm. Merlin has the sinking suspicion that  _ he’s _ the danger. Helplessly, he turns to Gaius once again. Gaius seems to have recovered from his shock. At least enough to speak.

“Merlin, your  _ eyes. _ ”

“What  _ about _ my eyes? I can’t exactly see them.”

No one laughs; though, it wasn’t exactly his best joke, or the best time.

It’s Arthur who answers, “They’re gold. You have magic, you’re  _ using _ magic.”

Suddenly, the horror on Arthur’s face makes a lot more sense. Aredian and Uther have been suspiciously quiet, if Merlin is visibly and unintentionally doing magic. He looks to Uther, without quite meaning to. The king looks shaken to the core, and it makes the stone in the pit of Merlin’s stomach grow heavier.

“Aredian. How is this possible? Is there a fault in the cold iron?”

Merlin isn’t sure what the temperature of the iron has to do with anything, but he supposes the cuffs  _ are _ a bit cold? But it felt like the normal sort of cold metal things usually felt like, when you first picked them up.

“I- I don’t know, sire. I’ve never seen anything like this, before. Usually, when a fault exists, it limits a sorcerer's ability to use their magic, instead of cutting them off completely.”

_ “It does what?!” _ Merlin squawks.

It’s Gaius, bless him, who explains, “Cold iron is a natural insulator for magic, Merlin. Those bound in it cannot reach the magic in the world.”

“But-” Merlin looked helplessly at his hands, which have begun to prickle faintly, like he’s slept wrong and they’ve gone to sleep. He  _ definitely _ still has his magic. But, even now, with everyone in this room  _ (including Merlin’s entire list of People Who Definitely Can’t Ever Find Out) _ able to see his  _ apparently _ golden eyes, Merlin can’t bring himself to verbally say something so damning.

“It’s not even that cold,” he finishes, lamely.

Aredian makes a noise like a wounded bear, furious and confused.  _ Dangerous. _ But Merlin doesn’t really have the space in his head to be afraid, right now. There’s a dozen other things that are more pressing than Aredian, like figuring out  _ what the hell _ is happening to him, and how to play it off as not his fault without getting anyone else thrown on the pyre.

Uther glares, and grits out, “They feel like  _ ice, _ even to those who have never practiced magic.”

_ “Ah.” _ Merlin says, then, hopefully, “Then- maybe these  _ aren’t _ cold iron at all? And the sorcerer is, er, trying to frame me?”

Aredian stalks towards him, and removes a glove. He presses his fingers to the cuffs, and glares.

“No. It’s cold iron. Which begs the question,  _ Merlin; _ what  _ are _ you?”

Merlin flinches. It hasn’t been long enough for him to forget what it was like before he came to Camelot, before he knew his destiny.  _ Monster, _ his mind whispers, but he shakes it off. No, he’s not a monster, he’s not a beast or a creature, either; he’s himself.  _ Yes, _ he has more magic than he knows what to do with, but there’s a reason for it, a purpose to him.

“It’s  _ spreading,” _ Morgana suddenly declares.

It takes a moment of blankly staring at her for Merlin to figure out what she’s talking about, but once it clicks he whines in a mixture of frustration and pure stress.

“Can someone  _ please _ find me a mirror or something?”

Gwen-  _ gods Gwen, Gwen knew too- _ hands him a small metal disc, polished to a flawless mirror finish. He manages a shaky smile, but she turns and retreats without looking at his face. It’s that, that casual fear from his first friend in Camelot, that really cements the likely consequences of today. Even if he manages to weasel his way out of this, would his friends ever look at him the same way again? Would Morgana turn cold, would he lose Arthur’s trust, would the other servants lower their gaze when he entered the room?

As he looks at his reflection, he can’t bring himself to blame them. His pupils have been swallowed up by the shimmering, molten gold, and as he stares, the circle slowly expands, slowly eating up the whites of his eyes.

“I don’t like this,” he whispers.

The hall is silent. Everyone seems to be looking to the King, who is looking to Aredian, for answers. Aredian has returned to the front of the room, and seems to be having a silent conversation with Uther. It’s in this quiet that Merlin hears a low murmuring. It grows louder, as if a large group of people are walking down the hall towards them, yet the voices are still indistinct. Merlin turns his head towards the doors, half expecting a crowd to enter, but no. Immediately, he knows they won’t, that that’s wrong, because it still seems like the noise is coming from behind him, even though he’s turned.

His magic, which has felt fit to burst for a while now, lashes out in his alarm. The world stills, yet the gold continues to spread. His eyes are solid pools, now, but it seems that’s not going to be the end of it, because the gold starts to whell up like tears. The whispers continue to grow louder, until he can make out bits and pieces of what’s being said.

_ “-Please Emrys" _

_ “They’ve taken him, he’s going to burn-” _

_ “-Please, gods, don’t let them find me" _

_ “Why? Why did you have to take her? She was only seven summers-” _

_ “-Let the little ones make it through the night, please” _

The answer to what they are hits him like a bolt of lightning. It’s a dangerous thought, a  _ conceited _ thought, worse than anything he’s heard out of Arthur’s mouth. But, all Merlin can think is they sound an awful lot like _prayers._ To  _ him. _ Once the seed has been planted, things start to make a horrible kind of sense. Merlin lets out an incredulous bark of laughter, because that’s it, isn’t it? He knows what he is, now. His hold on time slips, and against his better judgment, Merlin decides he should explain. Things are already ruined, so he might as well go all out. No more lying.

“I- I think I understand.”

Every head in the hall turns to him at once, but Merlin only has eyes for Arthur and Morgana. More than anyone else, it’s those two he’d most wanted to tell his secret. If this is his last chance to do so, before things truly go to shit, then he’s taking it.

He takes a deep breath in, straightens his spine, and as the rivulets of pure magic start to roll down his cheeks he announces, “I was born with magic.”

You could have heard a pin drop. Merlin waits, bracing himself for the inevitable explosion, and he’s not disappointed.

_ “-Sorcery” _

“Merlin!”

“-So you admit to the charges”

And loudest of all, from Morgana, “No one taught you?”

She stands, and everyone else trails off. Her words echo in Merlin’s head, from the time she came to the physician’s chambers in a panic, convinced of her magic and in need of a friend.  _ What if magic isn't something you choose? What if it chooses you? _ Yes, if the consequences had only been risk of execution, and _not_ risk of execution followed quickly by Arthur’s death, and a failed destiny to free magic, then Merlin wouldn’t have hesitated to tell her. But things are what they are, and there’s no going back. He can only hope he can help her understand, now.

“No. No one taught me. I was moving things without a word before I could crawl.”

Arthur makes a distressed noise, before trying to smother it with a hand, as if covering his mouth will shove it back down his throat, and collapses back into his throne.

Merlin spares him a brief, worried look, before turning back to Morgana, “Sometimes- rarely, but  _ sometimes, _ people have magic without learning any spells. And if they don’t use it, it builds up in them until it pours out, uncontrolled. People-” Or, in their case, an ornery dragon, “Call them witches and warlocks. That’s what I am.”  _ That’s what you are. _

“Why did you come to Camleot?” Arthur asks.

The forced coldness in his tone of voice makes something in Merlin’s heart cry out in anguish. Arthur’s pain, this perceived betrayal, it was inevitable. That doesn’t make it hurt any less, however.

“You asked me that, once before. I wasn’t lying when I said it was because I didn’t fit in, anymore. I didn’t. I was getting restless, and reckless, and my mother feared I’d be found out. So she sent me to our only other living family, Gaius.”

“Your mother feared you’d be found out, so she sent you from of a kingdom where magic is legal and into one where it’s punishable by death?” Arthur asks, disbelief clear in his voice.

Merlin winces, “Magic is legal in Essetir, but only so long as you use it in service to the crown. A very nice way of saying anyone with magic is enslaved. I’d rather be dead than a slave, so,” Merlin shrugs, uncomfortable with the topic.

Uther seems to finally find his voice, “You come into  _ my  _ kingdom, infiltrate  _ my _ household, and you expect me to believe a word out of your traitorous mouth?”

“No, actually. I know you’d sooner chop off your own arm than acknowledge magic isn’t what you say it is. And I didn’t  _ infiltrate _ anything,  _ you _ made me Arthur’s manservant, quite against my will at that.”

“Why  _ did _ you save my life?”

Merlin gives Arthur an offended look, “Uh, because  _ not _ saving your life would mean you were dead? What other reason do I need?”

Arthur huffs, and Merlin feels a spark of hope. It’s a little hint of the prat he knows.

“I only meant our previous interactions were- less than favourable, and I’m the heir to the kingdom that would kill you, if you’re to be believed, for the way you were  _ born. _ It’s all the motive others have needed to  _ actively  _ try  to kill me. Yet, you did the opposite.”

“Well, yeah. But I don’t exactly blame you for the Purge, so that’s kind of irrelevant? Arthur, you’d give your life for your people, and all you’ve ever seen is the worst side of magic. It makes sense you’d see it as a threat to your kingdom. I just- I just did. I don't regret it, or anything.” Merlin makes a helpless gesture, realizing he’s gotten a bit sidetracked. He’s supposed to be explaining the- the  _ thing _ with his magic.

“My first night in Camelot, I started hearing this voice, calling to me. I was in the dungeon at the time, but after a few nights of hearing it, I followed it.”

“Of course you did.” Arthur says, flatly.

_ “I followed it, _ ” Merlin says again, ignoring the comment, “Down, beneath the castle.”

Uther seems to catch on,  _ “You didn’t.” _

“I did,” Merlin confirms, “The voice belonged to Kilgharrah, the Great Dragon. He told me my destiny is to protect Arthur, while Arthur fulfills his,” Arthur makes another discontent noise, “Which, you know, wasn’t exactly thrilled with at the time, since all he’d done was prove he was a royal prat-”

_ “Gods Merlin, really?”  _ Arthur says, through his hands. Uther is starting to look apoplectic.

“What? It’s true, and it’s not like I can be executed  _ twice.  _ Contrary to how often I’ve had to do it, I don’t actually  _ like _ lying, especially about the things that matter, so if I’m going to burn I might as well get all of this off my chest. I want you all to know I am who I am, which is the person you know, but instead of saving Arthur’s life twice, it’s been more like  _ once a week, _ and if I wasn’t due for an execution before my next stipid, I’d ask if I could have a raise because honestly, keeping you alive is like a third, extremely stressful job.”

Gaius is the one to sound pained, this time, and Merlin realizes he should maybe stop mentioning how inevitable his death is, for Gaius’s comfort if no one else’s.

_ “Anyway, _ my point is I’ve got a destiny, and it’s a bit important, because  _ Arthur’s _ is important, and I’ve been told by Kilgharrah and  _ literally _ every single druid I’ve ever met that I’m- the most powerful magic user there is, right now?” The fact that no one laughs or comments is very telling, Merlin thinks, “But I think they’ve got things a bit twisted, maybe. Because these,” he jingles the cains on the cold iron cuffs pointedly, “Cut a magic user off from magic, right? If anyone would know the technicalities of it, it would be Gaius, he knows everything. So, I’m cut off from the magic in the world, but I’ve still got my magic. I’m, quite literally,  _ dripping _ with how much magic I've got, right now. Which isn’t normal. Not a fan, I have to say. So, my magic isn’t something I pull from the world.”

“What are you saying, Merlin?” Gaius asks warily.

“I’m saying, I don’t think it’s that I _have_ magic, I think I _am_ magic.”

There’s another gaping silence. Morgana is still on her feet, but she’s clutching the arms of her throne, like she’s bracing herself against collapsing. Arthur is staring at him with wide eyes, and the hint of fear there  _ stings. _ Uther is back to looking as pale as a ghost.

“Kill him.” Uther orders.

Merlin frantically scrambles away from the knights who’ve been standing at his back through all of this. He loses his feet, clumsy at the worst possible moment, and crashes painfully to the floor because can’t catch himself with his hands chained together. Before he can stand, one of the knights puts a sword through Merlin’s heart.

_ “NO!” _ Morgana screams.

It  _ hurts, _ and everything seems to go a fuzzy black. He’s dying, he’s definitely dying, there’s no way he’s  _ not _ dying right now, but all Merlin can concentrate on is the fact that his blood is mixing with his golden tears, and the colors match the Pendragon crest perfectly. His blood, sweat, and tears for Arthur. Even now. As if the thought has summoned him, Arthur is there at his side, cradling his head carefully. Gaius is there too, on his knees even though it’s painful for him to kneel, at his age, and clutching one of Merlin’s hands. Merlin can see Arthur’s lips moving, but he can’t hear him over the roaring in his ears. The roaring turns to words, once Merlin starts listening to it, and odder still it's in a language he knows but can’t name. Not the common tongue, or latin, or the language of the old religion, something else entirely. Merlin’s heart stops, and something  _ clicks. _

Emrys thought he’d understood, when he realized What he was. That understanding was incomplete. Now, however, with All of himself in a single place, the cuffs trapping the entirety of his magic inside him, he sees it All. The everchanging, shifting tapestry of Destiny. The flow of Time as a linear, unstoppable force to mortals, yet a calm pool for immortals. Life and Death, as inseparable as Emrys and the Once and Future King, another coin with two faces. And Magic,  _ himself, _ the newest god, Spoken into existence by a hundred thousand dying voices, crying in anguish as the Butcher King slays them and their loved ones. The Gods do not interfere in mortal matters, but they ached in sympathy. So they made a Mortal God.

Someone removes the sword from his chest, and Merlin heals, instantly, seamlessly. ( _ Merlin knows now that his apparent lack of talent for healing magic isn’t a lack, at all. Healing magic has everything to do with Destiny, only those Destined to be healed can be, and no amount of magic can save someone who is Destined to die. Merlin is not Meant to die here, so he doesn’t.)  _ Merlin sucks in a gasping breath, and opens his eyes. Arthur is still bent over him, eyes pinched shut and both hands cupping Merlin’s cheeks, and Merlin is horrified to see he’s crying. Merlin’s arm shakes terribly as he raises a hand to mirror Arthur's, but he manages to gently brush his tears away, though it leaves a messy streak of gold behind.  _ (Pure, unchanneled magic. They’ve bottled a concept, but his bonds are not strong enough to truly hold him. He’s made cracks.) _

_ “Arthur-” _ Merlin croaks.

Arthur’s eyes snap open, and Merlin has never been so glad to see that shade of blue. He’s probably not thinking entirely straight, what with the blood loss, but for a moment Merlin desperately wants to kiss him. It probably wouldn’t go over well, though, so he refrains. Barely. Thankfully, Morgana and Gwen provide the perfect distraction as they both start in on relieved mother henning.

_ “Merlin-!” _

_ “ _ ! _ Never _ scare us like that again”

“If you still have your magic, why didn’t you use it to stop the blade, or escape, or  _ something-” _

“?You are alright now, aren’t you? Did you heal yourself”

Merlin cuts in, “Yes, I’m alright now. I wasn’t exactly thinking, force of habit not to use it, I guess?”

“You’re an idiot,” Arthur says.

Merlin has never been so happy to be insulted by someone. Arthur still thinks he’s an idiot, he’s still calling him that in  _ that _ tone of voice, there’s a chance Arthur doesn’t hate him.

“Oh, absolutely. Was there ever any doubt?”

Uther, as always, cuts through the haze of happy relief, in the most spectacularly Uther fashion possible.

“If a sword couldn’t kill you, then we’ll have to try destroying your body completely. Someone send word to start building a pyre.”

_ “No!” _

Merlin flinches, startled at the sudden vehemence from so many voices at once.

“Father, you can’t be serious-”

_ “I am, _ and if you don’t step away from the sorcerer, you will find I will  _ make you.” _

The furious and protective beast that always awakens when Uther is cruel to Arthur rears its ugly head. Only, this time, there’s no reason for Merlin to bite his tongue.

_ “You will do no such thing,”  _ Merlin growls.

He carefully slips from the hold of his friends and family, and stands between them and Uther on shaking legs. It takes more magic than he’d ever admit, to stay upright, but it’s worth it to stare Uther in the eye, to realize he’s just a little bit taller than the king when he’s allowed to stand up straight. He uses the advantage appropriately, looming as best he can.

“Do you know how many pray for your death, Uther Pendragon?”

It’s an appropriately menacing question, it seems, because he doesn’t answer.

“I do. I know  _ exactly _ how many. The gods Heard their cries, felt their pain, and they made  _ me, _ to answer them. They took the magic of every magic user you killed and they poured it into my soul. And yet, you live and breathe,  _ saved, _ more than once, by my hand. Do you know why, Butcher King?”

A hand gently grabs his arm, and he knows without looking that it’s Arthur’s. Once again, Merlin continues without waiting for an answer from Uther.

“Your death would hurt Arthur. He loves you, despite your cruelty, despite how  _ conditional _ you are with every affection. The day Arthur thinks your death would be for the best is the day you  _ die, _ Uther. I won’t even have to lift a finger, either, all I would have to do is  _ step aside and watch. _ So, I suggest you shut up and  _ listen _ to him."

After a long pause, where it becomes evident that Uther is going to take Merlin's advice, Arthur tries speaking again.

Quietly, he says, "Father. Please. I believe there to be enough evidence to support Merlin's claims, and if he's right, then-" he tightens his hold on Merlin's arm, "Then we've been wrongly persecuting our people. If Merlin is magic, and he has the heart to save you and I both, then surely, it's not the corrupting force we believed it to be."

Uther stands, slowly, and descends from the raised dias. He stops, a few feet short of Arthur and Merlin, and searches both of their faces, in turn. Whatever he was looking for, he seems to find it.

"I, Uther Pendragon, being of a clear and sound mind, do abdicate my throne."

Merlin's eyebrows skyrocket. He turns to look at Arthur, who turns to look back at the same moment, and sees a mirrored look of shock. There really was no end to today's surprises, was there? A rush of whispers sweeps through the room, and after a moment, Uther holds up a hand for silence.

"It was my god given right to rule these lands, and it seems the gods have deemed it time to revoke those rights. I will not argue with them. Arthur, my son and heir, I know you will be a good king. You have my blessing, my counsel, and my faith. Merlin is right, however-" Merlin valiantly resists the urge to make a comment, though half a dozen come to mind, "I haven't been a good father. Perhaps, by shedding my duties as King, I can turn my focus to that, instead."

Arthur steps forwards, and after a moment of hesitation, pulls his father into a hug. In that moment, Merlin feels he's made a good choice. Maybe Uther would learn, would seek redemption, make amends where he could. Or maybe he wouldn't. But, he's given Arthur this: one instance where he knew he had his father's love and pride. The impossible expectations are gone, the ruthless tyrant overcome by the father he could be, that Merlin had seen hints of on rare occasions.

Gaius takes Arthur's place at Merlin's shoulder, and places an arm around him in a supportive half hug.

_ "I'm so proud of you, my boy. And sorry, too, for advising you so poorly. It would seem your instinct to share you gifts was the right path, after all."  _ He mutters.

Merlin matches his quiet tone,  _ "You were only trying to protect me, Gaius." _

Gaius offers him a rueful smile, and squeezes Merlin a bit tighter. Morgana, followed by Gwen, join them in watching Uther and Arthur share a quiet conversation. Merlin offers a hand to Morgana, trying to convey a hundred different apologies with just his eyes. They would have to talk properly, later, but when she takes his hand in a firm grip, he knows they'll be alright in the end. Once Uther and Arthur's embrace ends, Gwen leans around Morgana, a hesitant smile lighting up her face.

"Merlin, did you really heal my father from that awful plague?"

"Yes. I'm sorry you took the blame for it. I didn't think you would, but that doesn't excuse it, I should've thought it through more, been more careful. Or, more reckless, maybe, and healed  _ everyone, _ so no one could be pinned for it."

Arthur turns sharply, "You even  _ confessed! _ How did no one find out before now?"

_ "Well,"  _ Merlin draws out the word, "Someone maybe, sort of, did…?"

"Who-"

"Lancelot. I enchanted his lance so he could kill the griffin, but it was the first time I'd successfully cast that spell, so I didn't know it would be quite so…  _ flashy. _ And he heard me."

_ "Of course you had a hand in killing the griffin. _ Are there any other times you've used magic so blatantly, while people were conviently not looking?"

Merlin starts counting them off on his fingers, "The day I was made your manservant, I activated Valiant's shield, I helped with the Afnac, there was that mess with Edwin, and when Sophia and her father turned out to be exiled member of the Sidhe, enchanted you, and tried to drown you-"

_ "They what?!" _ Arthur cuts in, looking horrified.

"Yeah, I had to drag you out of the lake. You were in full armor and everything, so had to use magic to do it. Plus, you know. Killing Sophia and Ulfric." He trails off awkwardly.

"By the gods, Merlin. You're not  _ actually _ useless at all, are you?"

"I never was!" Merlin says, indignantly, "Even as a servant, you prat! It's not my fault I have a thousand other things I need to do."

Arthur laughs, and Merlin grins, delighted to be the one to have caused it.

"Never change, Merlin."

"If you say so, sire."

There was still a lot to discuss. Arthur's destiny, a coronation, the matter of what to do about the laws regarding magic, and everything Merlin had done for the good of the kingdom. But first…

"Can someone please get these off me, now? I don't know which stains are going to be worse, the blood or the liquid magic."

Arthur laughs again, and takes the keys himself, hands and eyes lingering as he unlocks Merlin's chains.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this all in one sitting, and only did one run through for editing, so it might be pretty rough? But let me know what you guys think! I had a lot of fun writing this, and it's the first time I've written a one-shot that didn't get horribly out of hand lol


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